A Glimpse at Betrayal
by headupintheclouds
Summary: Hermione and Draco are dating. What happens when she starts listening to Harry and Ron, and thinks Draco is with her simply to spy on the Order's activity? What does she do, how does she feel? And, of course, what ends up being the truth behind it all?


**A Glimpse at Betrayal**

By Headupintheclouds

Almost like something was wrong…

"Ron, that's not true!" Hermione reasoned gently.

"Yes it is! You do realize he's only dating you so he can get on information to pass on to You-Know-Who, right?" he replied, his voice decibels louder than hers had been.

"He wouldn't do that," she said softly. It was something she had considered, but the fear had mostly left her.

"You're not going to 'save' him, Hermione. You're wasting your time, and endangering all of us. When did I have to start being the _sensible_ one?" his tone was lower this time, but it scared her.

"You're being selfish," he said quietly to her, not meeting her gaze. He reached for his coat, wrapping it around himself to block out the cold winter air.

And then he opened the door and left.

She stared blankly at the coat rack, trying to wish away the tears that were quickly forming. Closing her eyes against them, she bit her bottom lip.

Mrs. Weasley put an arm around her, asking, "Dearie, what's the matter?"

Hermione just shook her head, opened her eyes, and took her coat. She didn't let her eyes meet Mrs. Weasley. She just left 12 Grimmauld Place through the same door Ron had, heading for her home. She knew someone was waiting on her.

She Apparated home quickly, for once apprehensive to meet the man she knew would be waiting for her.

Draco Malfoy was stirring something that was bubbling gently on the stove. He'd moved into Hermione's Muggle-inspired apartment a few months ago. It had taken quite a bit of time, but he was finally used to the Muggle appliances and the lack of house elves. And he hadn't complained once. She suddenly felt guilty, and tried to push Ron's accusations out of her mind.

He wiped his hands on the apron that hung on his lean frame, before coming to kiss her. She forced a grin up at him, but he seemed unfazed.

"How did the meeting go?" he asked, returning to his cooking.

"Well," she answered carefully. She couldn't believe the way she was reacting to Ron's accusations; he and Harry had been warning her about Malfoy since the day they started dating. It had thrown the entire school into a tumultuous disbelief, but no one harbored more bitterness than her two best friends.

Many times, people had asked her how they started dating, and she always told them she didn't know. It was like one day, he just put everything behind him, and acted like a mature adult. It had been somewhere during their 7th year, when they had been Head Boy and Girl.

And she had never questioned it, never looked back. So what was different about today?

Hermione sat down sullenly at the table as Draco finished dinner. He wasn't the best of cooks, and so they generally had spaghetti on the nights he was supposed to cook. They brought pre-made sauce, of course. Hermione didn't trust Draco not to pour in every last flake of pepper he could find. He'd managed to ruin even the simplest of meals. He didn't seem to understand the concept that some spices had more effect than others. And he seemed to be afraid of adding salt; ever.

As he brought out their plates, he sat one gently down in front of her. She attempted to smile up gratefully, but it was misconstrued into a blank look.

"For eating," Draco teased.

Again, Hermione attempted a laugh.

It came out as more of a strained noise, which caused Draco to eye her oddly, and then begin eating.

Hermione spent most of her time shoving the noodles around on her plate, nibbling it every once in a while. She was feeling truly guilty for the way she was treating Draco, for the way she was starting to suspect his motives the way Harry and Ron always had.

Partway through dinner, she made a realization: Draco had not, in fact, quizzed her at all about what had gone on in the meeting. He had asked how it had gone, she had answered vaguely, and he had dropped it. The thought made her smile, and the knot in the pit of her stomach dissolved.

Her appetite picked up, and she started shoveling her food into it.

Draco looked a little taken aback by this sudden change, but smiled nonetheless.

"What did you do today," she asked after swallowing another substantial bite.

"Nothing much… just a little work around the office. Did you read the paper this morning?" he questioned.

Hermione blushed a bit; she read the paper religiously every morning. This morning, however, she had been exceedingly late getting up, and hadn't had time. She'd taken it along with her to work, but hadn't had time to even open it.

"No time," she admitted.

He nodded. "Well, we're working on another Triwizard Tournament," he announced grandly.

And no one could mistake the pure, unadulterated fear in her eyes.

"Not again," she disagreed quietly.

"Don't worry- we're taking all the necessary precautions to be sure that no one is hurt this time… and that nothing is tampered with," he tried to console her.

"Is Karkaroff still head of Durmstrang?" she questioned.

"Well, yeah." He seemed confused by the question.

"Then it won't work," she answered simply, threading another bunch of noodles skillfully around her fork.

"But it was _Snape_ that ruined the tournament last time," he argued. "I thought we settled that earlier!"

"Yes," she shrugged," But it was also Karkaroff who cheated. Krum told me he knew not only about the dragons ahead of time, but he also got substantial clues about the other challenges as well."

Draco's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Are you still talking to him?"

"Yes, I am," she answered forcefully.

"But WHY? He's in bloody Romania, or did you miss that part? I know we didn't study geography at Hogwarts, but surely you know that Romania is what, four hundred million miles away?" he seethed.

She sighed, "Don't be so dramatic. We're just friends."

"Well maybe me and my 'just friend' Parkinson should get together some time," he mused.

She was starting to get frustrated. "The difference between me and Krum and you and Pansy is that you and Pansy were screw buddies. Me and Krum connect on an intellectual level that would be foreign to someone like _you_," she spat.

Although they rarely fought anymore, it still happened from time to time. Neither of them fought fair, and it was even more bitter and ferocious than it had been during their schooling years.

"Oh, yes. Krum was always such a brainiac, I can see why you choose to spout philosophies and other bullshit to _him_. He's just bloody _brilliant_." The sarcasm was dripping.

"Krum understands things you couldn't even pronounce!" Hermione replied, her voice level slowly rising.

Draco stood up, his hands on the table to steady him.

"Then why don't you go live with _him_?" he asked bitterly.

"_Because this is MY house!_" Hermione replied, standing as well.

"Then maybe I shouldn't _BE_ here!" Draco thundered.

"Actually, that would be just fine with me!" Hermione roared back.

Draco turned on his heel and made is way to the door.

He slammed it behind him, not bothering to glance back at her.

Hermione was shaking; she didn't generally find herself angry with Draco these days, but the rare occasions of their fights really tired her out.

Not bothering to rinse the dishes or put them in the dishwasher, she made her way upstairs. She nearly stopped by the bathroom door, with the intent of having a bath, but found she didn't even have the energy.

She crawled into their bed, and was asleep within minutes.

She felt a pair of lips press themselves softly into her forehead, and opened her eyes. Draco was on all fours, holding himself up on the bed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I get jealous sometimes. I trust you. You know that."

"I know," she whispered back.

He crawled into bed alongside her. Glancing at the clock, she realized it was a little after ten, on a Friday night.

"You do realize it's early, right?" she asked.

"Yeah. Thought you wanted to sleep," he replied.

"I just needed a nap. I'm all right now."

"Well," he replied, turning to her, supporting his head on his elbow, "What do you want to do?"

"Movie?" she asked.

He nodded.

They both pulled themselves to a standing position before ambling downstairs.

They went through their entire movie catalog twice before deciding to just have some tea and go back to bed.

"So what happened at the meeting?" he asked from the table.

She looked down at the kettle she was feeling and felt suddenly faint and scared again. "N-nothing much," she replied cautiously. She hated that she wasn't trusting him, but Ron had been her friend a lot longer than Draco; his suspicions were starting to slowly mess with her mind.

"You were there for over an hour- these meetings have been getting longer," he said casually, but it sounded more like an insinuation.

"A lot to talk about, I guess," she said defensively.

"A lot to talk about, but nothing much happened?" he asked. The question sounded rehearsed.

She carefully reviewed everything he'd said that day. Any other day, it would have seemed normal. Suddenly, she was analyzing everything that was coming out of his mouth, and trying to keep him from getting any answers. She tried to shake the idea that he might simply be a spy for Voldemort.

"I don't know, Draco. I'm tired." She replied weakly.

"Tired from what?" he asked.

"Tired from fighting with you!" she snapped.

"Does this have anything to do with Weasley?"

"His name is RON, Draco. And he's my friend! And I don't know what you're talking about," she replied edgily.

"This is about the way you're hiding something." He replied. It sounded awfully accusatory.

"I'm not hiding anything!" she exclaimed angrily.

"Which is why you're not telling me about the meeting."

"Why does the meeting _matter_?" she returned hotly.

"I want to know what you're doing, I want to help," he said soothingly. Hermione was feeling worse by the minute. He was being sweet, and she was being a bitch.

"Well, we think we've found some more Death Eaters who're harboring dark magic. Weapons, we're fairly sure. The raids are set for next week." She replied. The truth slid out so much easier than anything else she'd said.

"Who?" he asked simply.

"McGrady. Hoerson. Crabbe," she said.

He nodded levelly.

"And we think there's someone giving Voldemort information. The Order's really worked up about it. Every time one of our plans goes into action, whether it's an arrest or a search warrant, or anything, the person either up and leaves before we can catch him, or the materials we needed to find in the house were cleaned out. The authorities are starting to get fed up with all of our 'mistakes.'" She explained to him.

"Yeah," he said, absent-mindedly.

She realized she'd never turned on the stove- the kettle was sitting just as it had been when she filled it- with cold water. She sighed.

"D'you want to just forget about that tea and go to bed?" he asked her. He must have noticed her slip-up.

"Yes." She replied thanfully.

Ten minutes later, she was upstairs in her pajamas, trying to fall asleep beside him.

But something didn't feel quite right…

She looked over at Draco, and wondered why she suddenly didn't trust him. '_How easy would it be,_' she thought to herself, '_to just_ pretend _to switch sides? He could get all the information he wanted… from me…'_

Sleep didn't end up coming.

A/N: Well…. And we all thought I was dead, eh? This is a new fic I'm starting… not entirely sure where it's headed, though. Anyways, Happy Christmas. I hope to post lots more (of everything) soon. Ah, time off is lovely. Hoorah. Reviews make me want to write more, -subtle hint-


End file.
